


3 Times [U] Tried to be [AT-TN] for [K] (and 1 Time He Didn’t Need To)

by lighterlovesong



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Implied Akame, KAT-TUN friendship - Freeform, KAT-TUN gen - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighterlovesong/pseuds/lighterlovesong
Summary: There are four less letters in Kamenashi's life and Ueda attempts to make up for them.





	3 Times [U] Tried to be [AT-TN] for [K] (and 1 Time He Didn’t Need To)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [happymaybe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happymaybe/gifts).



Nakamaru was their anchor, the steady weight that tethered them to safety when the winds and waves got too intense. It was probably for this reason he'd automatically assumed the front-and-centre position throughout their 10Ks MC's.

A year later when Kame finds himself on his first solo tour doing an MC alone, he doesn’t let anybody forget.

“I’m not used to standing in the middle. This is usually Nakamaru’s spot.” His voice is soft when he says the name but it doesn't go unnoticed and a deafening cheer from the crowd erupts shortly.

Ueda watches this all unfold from backstage, disguised in an all-black garb standing in the darkness of stage left—his own territory before the hiatus. The crowd of course assumes Kame’s only teasing whenever he drops Nakamaru’s name like that but Ueda knows better.

“That’s the third time this week.” Ueda brings it up when they get back to his place.

“Nakamaru,” he adds when he finds no hint of recollection in Kame’s expression. “It’s the third time you’ve randomly mentioned him at work this week.”

Kame doesn’t say anything as he stretches his weary limbs on his side of Ueda’s bed, lying face-up so he can pick at invisible cracks on the ceiling. He’s exhausted and anxious, the worst possible combination at this hour, but soon he relaxes into the feeling of Ueda thumbing that spot on his hip just where his shirt has ridden up.

“I can’t stop thinking about KAT-TUN.”

This is Kame’s first sentence in hours and it will be his last for the night as he eases into sleep for what feels like the first time in months.

Maybe it’s the sound of their hearts beating against the stillness, or the taste of mint and smoke on Ueda’s tongue when he kisses him, or the way Ueda holds his hand the entire time like everything’s going to be okay.

It doesn’t feel real, yet it is and it’s right there if he wants it, every part of Ueda, the weight of his warmth pressed against Kame’s chest. It makes him feel safe, steady. Anchored.

 

*

 

Taguchi was their tension breaker, the awkward comic relief in any situation, though between the six of them he had been so much more. He was their invincible smile, a ball of light that kept on glowing when the rest of them had dimmed.

His departure came most unexpectedly and just like that they were down to three, left with a brand new void to fill.

Ueda struggles to smile as wide as Taguchi ever did. On some days he’s not even sure why he tries, but on other days there are rare lazy mornings where things become a bit clearer.

“What th...?” Kame can barely string a sentence together when he walks into Ueda making a racket in his kitchen.

“Pancakes.” Ueda answers, not really one for coherence either. He breaks off a tiny piece and shoves it in front of Kame’s face to try.

“This looks disgusting.” Kame eyes the soggy piece of dough suspiciously but eats it straight off Ueda’s fingers anyway.

“And tastes disgusting, _fuck_ , what is this?”

He sounds genuinely displeased and Ueda should be offended but it’s hard not to delight in the view of Kame half-naked and disgruntled at ten in the morning, face scrunched into an animated frown.

“You’re overreacting.” Ueda says in mock-defense. There’s a piece of pancake mush stuck on the side of Kame’s mouth but he decides not to tell him.

“You’re hopeless.” Kame’s words are sharp but his actions are just the opposite when he playfully clasps and squeezes Ueda’s face between the palms of his hands.

“But thanks for trying,” Kame then says softly and that smug smile on his face lights up the entire room.

Ueda’s not sure if he can smile as wide as Taguchi ever did, but Kame certainly can.

Except Kame’s smile is so much wider and about a thousand times brighter, and every day Kame reminds Ueda that it’s only as bright as what Ueda makes it.

  
*

  
Koki was their reality check, the one who set things straight the moment they went out of line, though ironically he was wildfire one second and warm sunshine the next.

In front of cameras he and Kame certainly played with fire, didn’t leave much to the imagination. In private they genuinely (surprisingly) got along, though some days were a different story—Koki threatening to punch Kame for skipping meals and smoking three packs a day, lost in another bout of self-destruction.

“Go starve yourself, I don’t fucking care anymore,” Koki spat the words at Kame’s face backstage just ten minutes before the show. They all knew he was out of line but nobody tried to stop him because they also knew that he cared, he cared so fucking much, possibly more than anybody present in the entire building.

That was five years ago, the last fight Koki and Kame ever had, but tonight Ueda feels like he’s back in the same spot except that this time he’s Tanaka Koki.

As expected he finds Kame outside all alone, leaning against his car and lacing his lungs with nicotine on an empty stomach.

“Is this a joke? You agreed to do three shows? On the same day?”

The last time Kame pulled something like that he drove himself to over-exhaustion and ended up in a hospital for days.

But Kame barely acknowledges Ueda’s anger, savours the cloud of bitterness in his lungs before he exhales the smoke as well as the words he will regret the second they leave his mouth.

“It’s my concert, my choice. When are we going to stop having this conversation?”

But Ueda doesn’t think about his next words either.

“Koki was right, you don’t care about the people who care about you.”

Kame is used to fire being thrown at him, years of experience wrapped thickly around his skin making him resolute, unbreakable, but Ueda’s words burn right through what little part of him he’s left open.

And for the first time Kame lets the fire consume him, makes him want to give up and give in, but tonight Ueda decides it’s not enough to be Koki. Ueda has to be Ueda, and Ueda has to walk away.

  
*

  
Then there was Akanishi Jin, and if Nakamaru was their anchor, Akanishi was the wind and the wave, ever-fleeting, unstoppable, the one who was never really there.

They should have known there was some truth to that. Kame certainly had, if his and Akanishi’s extensive sunrise conversations were any indication.

It always happened after work on the increasingly rare instances they found time for each other. They’d be exhausted but they’d stay up until the sun burned holes in their skin, the in-betweens filled with talks of KAT-TUN, their future, this, _us._

Kame had known, and he should have told the group but didn’t because he liked that he had that part of Akanishi just to himself, about how Akanishi needed to move at his own pace, that the pirate ship they had all built together just wasn’t sailing fast enough for him anymore.

So he left, and Kame let him, because Akanishi was his wind and his wave, ever-fleeting, unstoppable, the one who was never really there.

But they kept sailing without him, and when they divided majority of his verses between Kame and Ueda, Kame breezed through them like he’s been carrying the K and the A his entire life.

On the other hand Ueda still struggles to cover up the cracks, lost in his head dissecting all the different ways he could fuck up the performance he’s been avoiding for years.

It’s PRECIOUS ONE and it’s irrevocably Akanishi’s, laced with all the unattainable intricacies he’s left behind. But their fans have requested the song for their tenth anniversary, the same people who have kept KAT-TUN afloat, and Ueda is determined to deliver no matter what.

Kame stays with him the whole way through, never misses the chance to tell Ueda that his voice is beautiful, that it's more than enough, _he's_ more than enough. But lately Ueda is more stubborn than usual and Kame has to be a little sharper to get through.

“You're trying too hard,” he tells Ueda when he finds him after rehearsals, all alone with his grand piano in the middle of the stage.

Then the question slips before Ueda could even rearrange his words into something less biting—“You know I’m never going to be Akanishi, right?”

And Ueda anticipates anger, waits for hatred to rise from the other end of the stage, but as always Kame manages to prove him wrong, doesn’t even break their gaze when he walks over to sit next to him.

“I know,” Kame says definitively and he lets the words hang in the air a little longer before he grabs Ueda’s neck and presses their mouths together in an electrifying mess, two luminous specks suspended in the dark.

_( Wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart )_

 

*

 

Just a day before their tour kicks off Ueda decides to completely rearrange the PRECIOUS ONE production, assigning Kame to sing solo, Nakamaru to beatbox, and himself to play the piano.

The performance is raw as hell when they take it live for the first time, but because KAT-TUN is KAT-TUN, they get away with a little roughness around the edges.

Ueda’s first note leads them into the song, calloused fingers unsteady on the keys, and for a split second he’s thrown even more adrift when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

Perhaps a stray touch, just Kame being Kame, but the weight of his hand stays where it is for the entirety of the song, so Ueda keeps playing, keeps sailing, because Kame’s voice is all he can hear and Kame’s unwavering warmth is all he can feel.

And in that moment there are no winds or waves, just the two of them crystalised in the light, safe and steady.

_( Because ours are the moments I play in the dark )_

 

**_End._ **

 

**Quotes are from 'Supercut' by Lorde


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